Hellmouth Ice Cream
by tillowygoodness
Summary: Just a sappy one-shot


"Have a nice day!" Tara Rosenberg called cheerfully as the father led his kid back to the car. The little girl was grinning from ear to ear, holding the ice cream Tara had just handed her. Tarow Treats sold the best ice cream in Cleveland. The secret could have been magic, they didn't work spells directly on the ice cream, but there was certainly enough enchantment floating around. That could have been it, but Tara had another theory. She was running an ice cream shop, her earliest job she had wanted as a child. She was surrounded by friends who had become family, and she shared it all with her wife of twenty years. She and Willow had seen some rough patches, the country and the world had experienced some dark times, days when they didn't know if their marriage could endure, or if the forces of light and love and friendship would triumph over the darkness, but they had come through all of it stronger and wiser and better for it. The secret to the ice cream, Tara felt, was that love went into every scoop, and the genuine happiness and love she felt seeped into it.

A few minutes after the father and daughter left, Tara looked at the sun, then at her watch before walking around the counter to lock up. She rubbed her shoulder, feeling the old scar from the bullet. It had never quite healed correctly, it had ached back then, and at 55 years old, Tara now felt it more quickly than she had as a college student. She could have healed it with magic, but chose not to. She had nearly died that day, that bright, sunny, happy day. It was a lesson all of the Scoobies knew too well, but Tara saw the ache as a reminder to live each day like it was the last. Tara was not mad at Warren, not anymore. She had talked Willow down from killing him, had warned that if he did not turn himself in, Spike would not be so easily stopped, and she still visited him in prison. He would actually be out soon, and he had told Tara at length about his plans to develop robots that could serve as firefighters, he wanted to do good.

If Tara knew for a fact that the next day would be her last, she would still open the shop, the smile of a child who wandered in and tasted the cold, sugary goodness for the first time was one of the purest, simplest joys in the world. But she would close early, because there was one thing even better. He turned the corner and her home came into view. A little cottage, decorated in blue and yellow and light green, looking out over a small pond. As happened every single time Tara saw it, her heart filled with new love. She could be at home anywhere her friends were, but this was what home was supposed to be. She passed the white picket fence and around back to the garden, where she knew Willow would be. Her wife was usually with her at the store, but they had just gotten some rare flowers and Willow wanted to plant them. Tara loved the garden, it was one of her favorite places in the world to sit and appreciate nature, but Willow was the one who enjoyed actual gardening.

Tara saw her wife kneeling in the grass, patting the soil around the last flower. Bees hovered around her, butterflies touched down on her shoulder, the ice cream shop was magical by association with them, but this was deliberately humming with subtle energy, a living shrine to Gaea, all the church they could ever want.

Tara walked up, Willow heard her and turned, standing and smiling. Tara admired her wife, they were both showing some flecks of gray, a few smile lines, Tara thought maybe living by two Hellmouths had aged them slightly, but it didn't matter. Willow was more beautiful now than even the radiant young witch Tara had met almost thirty-five years earlier.

They embraced, shared a happy kiss, and just held each other the same way they had the night of Tara's twentieth birthday, when they had floated. They broke the hug after a minute, but they still held hands, smiling as they went back inside, to the smell of the cupcakes Willow had been baking. "I just need to get them frosted and we are all set for the party" said Willow "I hope it goes better than last time we threw Buffy a birthday party….oh, panicking, the dragon….the magic golden candle….so much fire" Tara sat her down, got the cupcakes, and put a butter knife in her hand "Willow, breathe" she ordered "Don't think, just frost, this year will be fine. It's a regular wax candle, and Angel promised that he wouldn't let his dragon out again. No dragons, no evil demons, only friendly vampires, and Fred promised to just bring regular alcohol, not 'magical ad scientist grab bag' like at your 50th...although it WAS kinda funny to see Dawn turn rainbow colors". The two witches laughed at the fond (for them, not the Watcher who went on a date still slightly blue) memory, the panic forgotten.

They frosted the cupcakes and set them on the counter. They were hosting because their home was more welcoming than Buffy or Dawn or Giles' homes what with the weapons and anatomical slaying trophies, and Xander's had been flattened by...Tara wasn't sure WHAT it had been, some talking cloud. They put up a few other odds and ends, then went to sit in the garden, watching the sun set and the stars rise, naming the constellations all kinds of funny things. They sat there for many hours. Tara Rosenberg had come from a bad place, but she wouldn't have changed a thing.


End file.
